


Show me your scars (that’s who you are)

by Maegalkarven



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Keith and Shiro are Adoptive Siblings, M/M, Minor Allura/Shiro (Voltron), Non-Graphic Violence, Sad with a Happy Ending, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Swearing, You've been warned, like legit working name for this fic was 'that fucker' so, like very minor two mentions of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 20:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10929354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maegalkarven/pseuds/Maegalkarven
Summary: Soulmate AU where your injuries show up on your soulmate and theirs show up on you.One day Keith finds out what Lance's nickname for his soulmate is extremely horrendous even for someone as intrusive and thick as Lance. Which would hold absolutely no importance to him, if only a recent soulmate-identifying injury Lance had gotten wasn't a deep scar on his right  shoulder; the same place Keith had nasty, just starting to heal wound.





	Show me your scars (that’s who you are)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me join y'all in soulmate AU hell/heaven
> 
> UPD almost half of a year later: I've fucked up, folks. Just realized I FREAKING MIXED UP SHOULDER ON WHICH KEEF HAS A SCAR  
> It's the RIGHT ONE, not left

Keith would absolutely, with one hundred percent certainty say: the universe holds some kind of a grudge against him.

Because you see, as long as Keith remembers, he held close to his heart a simple number of two people.

Shiro, whom fate tried to rip away from Keith and kill in the worst way possible in the process. And his soulmate; extremely caring person who always went that far to bruise himself to cheer Keith up with a message, or a silly joke or something else.

His soulmate tended to hit his arm with a pen, or scratch it lightly to leave some words meant for Keith and only him. Words like: "You've got it!", "You don't deserve any of this", "Honestly, fuck them whoever they are", "Are you okay????"(with just _that much_ question marks), "Oh my god, please, stop fighting so much, your knuckles are literally dying".

It doesn't matter what his soulmate sent him, point is: it has always been something supporting or strongly encouraging. Keith never was the one easy to put his trust in others, but after all years of small, gentle remarks punctured on the skin he knows that he can trust his soulmate with his life and even more: his heart.

Which makes further revelation even worse.

The revelation comes in the face of extremely loud Cuban boy, who breaks through the door as if chased by an army, no less.

"That fucker!" Mcclain exclaims unceremoniously, and his shout makes no sense to Keith.

It does, however, hold some sense for Hunk and Pidge both; Hunk gets distracted from his current project, raising head in curiosity, and even Pidge looks away from the screen for a full tick.

"Again?" Pidge asks, apparently having a perfect understanding of what's going on.

"Can you believe it?!" Lance practically shouts, voice raising to impossible height. "No, _can you?!_ "

"Yes, actually," Hunk hums. "What has he done this time?"

"Tried to die," Lance hisses, and the next moment Keith catches him putting his shirt off.

"Wha- The hell are you doing?" Keith asks, but further complains quickly get stuck in his throat from a view he sees.

On the right shoulder blade of Lance shows deep and clearly fresh cut what in no way can belong to him; Keith knows it because it's his wound. Or more like the wound mirrored to the core from the damage he got from Blades of Marmora trial. Keith is slowly getting aware of what's going on, but realization doesn't make him happy, not at the slightest.

Because the only explanation to same exact wounds for two people is one word: _soulmates_.

Lance, his anxious, noisy and annoying teammate is his soulmate.

Keith sits still, processing this information, while Lance continues to flow everything around with his angry words.

"The hell is this?!" he points at the wound on his shoulder. " _The quiznack_ is this nightmare?! How did he even get this? I'm already used to his everyday bruises, like I get it; he's some kind of martial genius or just street fighting weirdo, okay, _fine_ , same old; but where did this deep bloody cut come from?! Fucking- Holy shit! Does he have no brain or self-preserving instincts whatsoever?!"

"Wow," Hunk says, looking at the wound closer. "It does look pretty serious, I hope he's fine."

"Fine?" Lance asks, voice getting high all over again. " _FINE?!_ This fucker is never fine; I swear he decided to die before we'll meet, no less."

"You're motherhening again," Pidge snickers. "Calm down, drink water or something."

"Keep calm and save the universe," Hunk nods, already applying some of bandages to Lance's shoulder. They all know treating the wound from your soulmate connection is a lost cause; it'll disappear only then healed on the person who got it to begin with, but this doesn't stop Hunk from trying.

"Maybe it'll get a little better," he says. "Hopefully."

"Or maybe my fucker will break his fucking neck tomorrow, " Lance grumps, and then it assures to Keith; he's actually worried.

Not just this; blue paladin is practically shaking from nervous tremor, looking at the ugly wound from time to time as if in the hope it'll just disappear.

The wound stays, and so does Lance's worry.

"My fucker" sounds like a term of engagement more than anything else, escaping boy's lips soft, affectionate and full of desperate caring.

Lance cares for "his fucker" more than he tries to show, more than anyone would ever expect.

And Keith is that fucker.

Keith suddenly feels like he can't breathe, as if something got stuck into his throat, blocking the way for the air to come. And go. Stopping the life support.

Keith guesses he knows what it is; or _who_.

It is Lance, with his stupid jokes and pickup lines; Lance, who can't skip a single skirt - or, as later appeared, pants.

Who flirts with everyone, no matter height, look, race, number of lungs - but not Keith. He saw Lance jokingly throw a line or two at Pidge; blue and yellow paladin always had this deeply close relationship there you're not sure if they're "bros" or actually dating (bros, as it was figured as Hunk got hit by deadly crush on one particular "rock he admires"); Lance flirted with Allura, Coran; Keith thinks he remembers some moments where Lance was actually checking Shiro's ass; and not to mention Nyma, mermaid alien Lance couldn't shut up about for weeks and other unknown aliens of every shape possible.

But some unknown and somehow utterly unfair reason Lance never ever flirted with Keith.

It...Somehow it hurts.

And Lance is the one who looks like someone just put his heart out of ribcage, broke it on thousand smallest pieces and gave back, even though he does pretend his best to look like nothing has happened.

Lance is the one who looks at the wound on his shoulder as if it had personally offended him, Lance is his sweet and caring soulmate.

And then Shiro enters the room.

Which is honestly a disaster; Keith loves his adoptive brother, he truly does, but Shiro knows _way too much_.

Shiro knows about Keith's wound: he found it out as he tried to place a hand on its usual place on Keith's right shoulder and made Keith hiss from the pain.

Shiro is the one who saw him blush ten different shades of red then his soulmate was puncturing a short message, angrily hurting his own skin with something sharp to write comforting yet full of rage words. Shiro knows and he isn't an idiot, he can easily count two and two and get the right answer.

And the thing is: no matter how many times Keith might have said otherwise, he knows what Lance is not an idiot either.

Keith tries to give Shiro some kind of a sign without alerting other people's attention; but Shiro, his kind, understanding brother seems to suddenly adopt a habit of being clueless at the worst moment possible. He frowns, noticing Keith's desperate "shut up, not a word about this!" expression.

"Keith," his well-timed sibling asks. "Are you alright? You look...troubled."

"Shiro!" Lance cries, ecstatic for some more of attention. "Look at what my soulmate had gotten!" Boy pokes himself right into the wound. "It doesn't hurt and we were so busy lately, so I just haven't noticed a giant fucking cut on my shoulder, and I have no idea how long it's here and then did it appear; but just check this freaking shit out!"

"Language," Shiro says automatically, getting a better look on Lance's shoulder. "Lance," he frowns. "It's a deep cut. I know it probably doesn't harm you in any way, but just to be safe; make sure to check it out with Coran."

And this is all Shiro manages to say, because the moment some flicker of recognition sparks in his eyes, Keith unceremoniously grabs him by a elbow and practically drags out of the room.

* * *

"I told you to treat this wound of yours!" Shiro starts first thing as they leave the room.

"Please, don't tell anyone!" Keith begs at the same time. "Especially not Lance, but not Hunk either: he would keep a secret, but he is too close to Lance. And not Pidge, she will use it to blackmail me; not Allura either, she'll try to get us together, same for Coran. Just. Don't tell anyone?" He looks at his brother, sincere and fearful.

Shiro sizes him with a look in return. "Alright," he says. "But you'll immediately go to the med bay and treat this mess on your shoulder as you should have long time ago."

"But what if Coran will see me? Or Allura? Or Lance?"

"I'll tell you that: if you don't take care of yourself properly, I'll use Castle speaker system and announce to everyone who exactly is your soulmate and how to prove it."

"You're blackmailing me," Keith hisses as an angry cat probably would. "Like Pidge."

Shiro just looks back at him, not impressed at the slightest. "If making sure my brother doesn't walk around with half- treated wound is blackmailing, then so be it. Seriously, it was a decade since the day you've got it; I'm surprised it looks so...fresh."

"I think it has something to do with the material marmoran blades are made of," Keith admits. "Luxerite, is it? It probably stops regenerative process in my body. I've actually tried to treat it, but with Allura giving me cold shoulder, I didn't risk to call for help of anyone then it wasn't healing properly."

"You ‘didn't risk calling for help’," Shiro repeats, as if not fully believing what he hears. "Keith-"

"I know!" Keith interrupts. "I know. I'll deal with it, promise. But you promise to keep it in a secret. Deal?"

Shiro sighs.

"Deal," he agrees.

* * *

_Marks of battle, they still feel raw_

_A million pieces of me on the floor_

_(c) The Script - Exit Wounds_

The revelation stinks, because suddenly Keith is confronted with a fact how much simple skin layer can tell all about a person. About Lance.

Because all out of nothing, Keith gets overwhelmed with realization, he is the one having hard time counting two and two; because cheerful, excited for everything, emotional and loud Lance can’t possibly be his soulmate.

It would mean scars Keith witnessed tracing all over the left and sometimes even right arm, on a place from a wrist to shoulder, belong to Lance.

These light and faint at first, thick later lines, craving into Keith’s skin, making him confused and worried about the nature of the harm, pushing him to consult with Shiro one more time.

Keith kind of regrets telling his brother about these cuts, seeing as Shiro walks in circles around Lance, so much more attentive than before, like a hunter trying not to scare wild animal.

Because Shiro was able to identify and explain cut lines on Keith’s and – originally – his soulmate’s wrists so well, but the new knowledge brothers obtained was far from comforting.

These are _self-harm cuts_.

Self-harm cuts, what his soulmate apparently craved into his own skin with something sharp; a knife or even a math compasses.

And the knowledge what so loudly happy Lance is the one who cuts the pain into the flesh of his body doesn’t add up, Keith finds himself thinking about it again and again; trapped into a cycle of wandering thoughts. He sees Shiro circling around Lance carefully, watching, expectant, worried.

Because – surprise! – Apparently all-knowing Takashi Shirogane somehow managed to miss one of his teammates and subordinates having deep harmful thoughts; because history of self-harm never is just a history. Because something pushed Lance to start cutting himself, and Shiro worries, trying to find out, what it could be; wondering, how much he missed.

He stumbles over his own words, just before scolding Lance for some mistake, inhaling sharply, taking his time to calm down.

“Not bad,” he says instead. Lance notices, of course, he isn’t an idiot and, apparently, he is far more self-doubting than any of them have thought.

“You’re kidding!” Lance exclaims. “It’s _nothing_ even close to ‘not bad’; it’s freaking awful, in fact. Dude, you don’t have to get easy on me, even if you don’t think I can do better. Like, practice makes it, right?”

Shiro practically chokes right now and then, hearing these earnest “don’t think I can do better”, because suddenly, fully aware of Lance’s hidden nature, he catches deep self-depriving context and wonders, how could he be so blind before.

“It’s just not your day,” he manages, before escaping the training room, leaving other paladins behind, full of confusion.

* * *

Apparently, Hunk is well aware.

Because then Lance’s hands shake, as he tries to make a shot, as he doesn’t manage to hold his own bayard because of a sudden tremor of his wrists, Hunk puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” he says quietly, and if Keith wasn’t hidden behind a near column, accidentally walking in something he wasn’t supposed to see and quickly pushing behind the closest cover, he wouldn’t be able to hear it. “It’s okay. It’s just one shot: everyone knows you ace in shooting things from any distance.”

“How,” Lance asks, and his voice sounds so damn sharp, so at the edge, what Keith has to restrain himself from looking from his hideout to see boy’s face. “Can I shoot things if I can’t even hold my own bayard?”

“Some days are just worse than others,” Hunk continues. “And you know, it’s not your fault that some of tendons in your arm healed up wrong.”

“ _Sure,_ ” Lance practically hisses. “It’s not my damn fault, even though I damaged them by myself to begin with!”

“Still,” Hunk pushes, somehow managing to sound calm even now. “It is not your fault what sometimes your hand gets painful cramps and spasms. Doc said it’s more likely to happen then you overwork it, remember?”

“We’re at the war!” Lance all but screams. “I can’t just sit and wait till my freaking hand starts to work properly, Hunk, I just can’t! I’m enough of a waste already, and I-“

“Hey,” this one sounds more forceful. “ _Don’t._ I’m going to start crying because you don’t like and appreciate yourself enough if you won’t stop trash-talking yourself, and you hate it then I cry.”

Lance makes a weird strangled sound, making Keith to guess if _Lance_ is crying.

“Okay,” he mumbles. “You think we can cuddle later? Just…to make it better. If you’re free, of course.”

“I’m always open to cuddles,” Hunks sighs, and Keith thinks he hears relief in yellow paladin’s voice.

* * *

_Cause like a knife you cut me open_

_I feel alive for the first time in my life_

_(c)Thousand Foot Krutch - Oxygen_

But no matter, how hard Keith tries to hide this new revelation of his, truth finds the way out just like it happened with his galran heritage.

One day Keith has stupidity to train without a shirt; and the exact same day, exact same time Lance decides to check out the training desk.

It comes in a blur; one moment Keith is deep into the six level of training exercise, sweat dropping off his forehead, hair wet of it. The next one – training is suddenly turned off and Keith is face to face to unexpectedly pale Lance Mcclain.

“What,” Lance starts, not giving Keith a chance to calm his breath. “Is this?”

It’s obvious he’s pointing at the wound.

“It’s a wound,” Keith says, a genius child.

“I see, I mean, _I’m not blind_ ; why does it looks the same with the one I’ve got? My soulmate injury?”

Lance isn’t blind _or_ stupid; he found the answer already, but for some damn reason needs to hear Keith saying it aloud.

Keith obeys.

“I’m your soulmate,” he drops, because honestly; he tried to hide it so hard, but right now, after two hours of intense training, exhausted, he can’t find an energy to try to cover it up. So he just admits the truth.

Lance looks at him for a moment, eyes wide; clearly at loss of words.

Keith suddenly feels guilty – so heartbroken Lance seems to be. Which is, actually, very rude thing; that’s not how you’re supposed to react at your soulmate’s reveal.

“ _What the fuck_ ,” Lance barely whispers, before rushing away from the room, his bayard staying on the floor, where he dropped it.

Keith stays alone.

“Quiznack,” he swears.

* * *

 Lance knows.

Lance knows what Keith knows and he knows what Keith knows what he knows.

In reality it even more complicated than it sounds.

Lance is avoiding him and Keith is truly, honestly, absolutely fine with it.

“You’re not fine,” Shiro says, as he helps his brother to get to his room after extremely long training session.

“Fuck off, Takashi,” Keith retorts.

He is fantastic.

* * *

He wakes up to someone humming.

 _Humming_ ; in his room, just near his ear. Voice sounds suspiciously familiar.

Someone takes his hand, moving it up carefully; then Keith smells a flowery scent and his damaged arm is getting wrapped into a soft fabric. Someone _is treating his bruises_.

Humming doesn’t stop, even after his hand is put back on its place. But then blanket is being lowered up, and two cold hands reach under Keith’s t-shirt and…

“Okay, what the hell are you doing?” Keith demands.

“Whoa,” the familiar, too familiar voice says. Voice what belongs to Lance. “Dude, I didn’t know you woke up!”

“I can see it,” Keith hisses. “And you haven’t answered; the quiznack are you doing here, weirdo?”

“ _You_ are the weirdo,” Lance huffs. “And also some kind of terminator freak; dude, even Shiro doesn’t train that much!”

“I wasn’t training,” Keith lies for some unknown reason. Lance squints his eyes.

“Sure,” the boy hums. “And all these bruises you’ve got today what I just happen to have a visual sight of appeared all over your skin just because.”

“It’s galra thing,” Keith tries another time. Lance snorts.

“Oh,” he says. “Hunk was right, galra Keith is funny! Now, while you are awake, move your shirt up; got to treat this mess on your ribcage.”

“I don’t need you to-“

“Shush,” Lance silences him, a finger on Keith’s lips instant.

Keith is having hard time trying to not accent his attention on this small fact. Lance’s finger is soft, a little bit cold and smells of herbs. Keith wonders how Lance’s finger tastes and, catching himself on that thought, wants to disappear right now and there. He pushes the thought into the darkest corner of his mind, sending a mental “nope” to follow.

“You’re my soulmate,” Lance continues, obvious to Keith’s struggle. “And I won’t be Lance Mcclain if I won’t treat every single of your cuts and bruises. No objections allowed!”

Keith could argue about that; but he’s still not fully awaken from the sleep, distracted by Lance’s close presence and honestly; having someone to take care of you feels not bad.

It’s a new feeling: no one but Shiro ever cared about him enough to worry about Keith getting hurt.

And Lance; he is, well, himself – extra and dramatic, but also tender. His hands move gently from bruise to bruise, knowingly; Keith wonders if Lance had memorized them from his own body. He applies a cool lotion-like substance on every minor damage he sees, putting some of bandages on the worst ones.

Keith could argue, but Lance’s gentle hands, smoothly moving down by his skin, pressing in one places, circling in others, feel too good to stop whatever is happening.

So he just relaxes, closes his eyes, and inevitably…

…He falls asleep.

* * *

 It keeps happening like this; Keith getting bruised, Lance fixing the mess he has made.

They don't talk outside their usual bickering interactions, Lance doesn't accent attention on his new revelation. Short scratched responses to bruises Keith unexpectedly got used to stop, instead every time Keith tries to hide an especially bad bruise from his overprotective brother, Lance finds out instead, barging into Keith's room and personal space and life; getting deeper and deeper under covered in scratches and scars skin, growing into Keith’s subsystem.

Lance keeps silently bandaging wounds, applying healing balms; caring, almost loving, full of affection what he doesn't even try to hide.

It's not long till Keith, overwhelmed by feelings, snaps at him.

* * *

"I don't want your attention!" He hisses and hopes it sounds convincing enough. "Leave me alone, I don't care if we are soulmates or something-"

"I know you don't," Lance interrupts, not letting him finish. " _I know_ you don't want me and _I'm quite aware_ you never had and never will."

Keith wants to say something, because the way Lance twists the words gives them another, more hurtful meaning, and he hasn't even meant his own words, so he especially doesn't agree with this dark twisted version either.

But Lance doesn't let him; with this look of grim determination and deep, old pain he continues as if someone makes him to do so.

"But none of this will change a damn single thing, because _I care_ about it!"

 _What?_ Keith manages to think, shocked and a little bit hopeful too, before train of Lance's speech hits him one more time.

"I care about you getting hurt and I wanted for so long to be just close enough to stop this entire the fuck up!" Lance pats Keith's bandaged hand, what he still is holding tight, with another hand, lightly, making sure not to hurt bruise under the bandage. "I wanted for so long to make sure you're not hurting anymore and _I literally give no fucks_ if you hate me and want to fight me: like go on, do it, but just stop hurting yourself all the time, god damn it!"

And Lance looks sincere; so sincere something inside of Keith's ribcage tightens painfully from the look at the boy in front of him.

Lance is now clenching Keith's damaged arm as it's the most fragile treasonous thing in the world, like he would straight up die if someone would even try to take it from him.

This is not what Keith could ever expect; this strange, painfully open look of Lance he never experienced before.

But also it's familiar; like soft puncture in the skin, tiny scratches gathering into letters, words, sentences. At this moment Keith more than ever realizes: Lance is the boy who was connected to him from the very beginning of their lives; he's the one who always was here with him through anything, never getting anything but new bruises in response. Not even once Keith answered to mysterious person on the other side of mental link, never showed any sight of acknowledgement; and yet, for all these years his soulmate kept sending him all comfort, all encouragement and love words can hold.

This person _is Lance_ , and he's looking at Keith, almost if waiting to be punched, or at least screamed at.

He looks so sad it's unnatural.

At this moment Keith fully realizes what he probably doesn't know Lance at all.

He doesn't know the Lance who's hiding behind this entire confident front, full of jokes and smiles he doesn't always mean.

It accuses to him just now what Lance even hides something at all.

"Just hurry up with this," he murmurs, relaxing hands and feeling tension leaving Lance's body as well.

Keith doesn't raise his eyes, but can feel Lance's intense, searching look studying him.

"Yeah, hold hand like this for a sec," and the boy is back to movements; acting fast, knowingly, gently wrapping damaged part into soft, smelling like some kind of herbs material. "This thing was soaked in some altean healing lotion before, so it should mobilize regeneration of your skin and disinfect it and all," this time Keith raises his head just enough to catch a glimpse of Lance's shaky and apologetic smile.

Lance meets his gaze and smiles wider. "You're freaking stubborn," he says with a grin.

"Whatever," Keith deadpans.

"And your hand is a mess."

"No one makes you do it."

"Yeah, but I want to."

"You do?"

"Yeah," Lance looks away, as though he's ashamed to admit it aloud.

"Why?" And Keith really needs to know the answer, he wants to understand.

"I...care about it," now Lance is turned almost to the opposite direction and his voice is so quiet Keith can barely hear it. "About soulmate thing. I know it's nothing for you, but I," he gulps. "I care. About my soulmate; I care about him a lot."

Keith feels like blushing and a little bit - dying.

"About me," he makes sure to point out. "You care...about _me_."

Lance doesn't answer, just nods hastily, holding fully covered in bandages hand for dear life.

Keith decides to not pursue. He still doesn't fully get it, but silence that prevails around isn't of the bad kind; it's soft and calm and warm.

Silence feels like his soulmate's words, Keith suddenly understands. It feels like the Lance he is just getting to know.

And so he stays there: in silence.

* * *

_Stop, look, listen to my voice_

_It was never my choice to feel all alone_

_This is my home_

_(c) Thousand Foot Krutch - Move_

But it's just another moment of calmness before the storm.

Because apparently Keith can't shut the quiznack up then it's the most needed; he can't swallow words gathering inside of his throat, he can't just let it go and ignore the knowledge he has.

So one day in the middle of Lance’s usual “why the fuck you always hurt yourself, are you masochist or something” speech, he opens his big stupid mouth.

“You’re the one to talk about harming yourself,” somehow slides from his tongue, and Keith wants to punch yourself right away; because no matter how socially awkward he can be, even Keith is well aware what you don’t simply talk with people about stuff like this.

“What do you-” Lance starts, but then realization hits him, fast and sharp, and he stops mid sentence to breathe and gather himself.

“Don’t tell anyone.” He asks. Keith stays silent, but his look betrays him.

“You already did,” Lance confirms. “Of course, that’s why- Why did you have to tell it to _Shiro_ of all people?!”

The way Lance points out Shiro’s name, raising him on a pedestal of worship and admiration, rubs Keith the wrong way. Lance says Shiro’s name like if the man asked him to go and die for him, he would; and it drives Keith mad. He isn’t sure is it because _his soulmate_ looks up at Shiro like someone to die for, or is it because Lance speaks about _Keith’s brother_ as if he’s as close to him as Keith is. It’s a blade of two sides, but ugly jealousy creeps into Keith’s subsystem as low-acting poison would.

He is scared to tell Lance something bad, something rushed and harmful, only to realize there is no Lance in front of him anymore.

Apparently Lance was the one who decided to act on rushed feeling and say hurtful words.

Keith finds him in a common room, all but hissing at Shiro’s direction, spiteful and hurt.

“You don’t have to treat me like a fucking glass statue!” he spits out. “Just because you found out about something that is not your fucking deal!”

Lance hits Keith with an angry gaze at that moment, acknowledging him joining the show. Shiro tries to say something, but a tsunami called Lance is faster.

“I am not some broken thing to treat me with a caution!” he continues, not lowering voice even once. “Just because,” he gasps, out of air. “Just because I was foolish enough to cut some bruises into myself, doesn’t mean you need to hover over it like it’s a big deal and like I’m suddenly fully dysfunctional asset you need to fix! I know I’m worth of nothing, but I don’t need you to start pitying me now because of Keith’s inability to keep his mouth shut!” Keith gasps, trying to find out a response, anger rising inside once again, but Lance is fast to leave just as he was fast to rush into the room.

“…What was that?” Pidge asks, confused and worried at the same time. “Keith, what did you do?”

“Did you,” Hunk exhales, and then rushes out of the room after Lance. It seems Hunk put some pieces together.

“Keith?” Shiro asks gently. But the boy can’t say a thing, he is just shaking silently with unreleased anger and fear and pain he wasn’t aware he held in, wrapping hands around himself as if in the attempt to get yourself warm.

“It’s okay,” Shiro says then, getting closer and hugging Keith. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Keith wants to say what it’s not okay at all, what Lance clearly hates him now, but he can’t.

So he just keeps shaking, leaning into his brother’s embrace and wishing to disappear.

“No, really, what the fuck just happened?” Pidge repeats.

* * *

He sits at his bed lately the same evening, playing with a knife in his hands, deciding.

Then he finally chooses and tries to scratch lightly into his skin. “Lance,” writing starts, “I am so-“

His door opens up with a violent “whoosh”.

“What the quiznack are you doing?” Lance demands, a force of nature once again, furious with caring. “Give me this fucking knife, you coward. Can’t apologize like normal people do?”

* * *

 And somehow it gets better; with Lance falling asleep in his bed, in the middle of his angry worried rants, as the boy was wrapping Keith’s scratched skin into soft cooling layer of altean bandage.

“It’s just a scratch,” Keith tried to argue, but was shut down with Lance’s angry shushes pretty quickly.

Lance sleeps on his back, with a mouth half open. He snores quietly and – Keith is pretty sure it’s illegal – somehow manages to make it to sound melodic.

He is a messy sleeper, just as he’s a messy person in general, but Keith can’t find energy to dislike it. He lies down close to the boy who seemed to capture his bed and his heart, sighing softly, watching Lance’s ribcage rise with every breath he takes.

It’s calming, soothing even, and feels extremely like home.

Keith is forced to acknowledge this growing urge to protect the boy in front of him with his life; he brushes messy hair strands away from Lance’s face, carefully tracing faint freckles with his fingers.

This soulmate ordeal might be a real thing, after all.

* * *

 Keith once again catches a glimpse of conversation he isn’t supposed to hear.

Maybe it’s destiny, maybe a mix of bad timing and bad place, but he keeps stumbling over some rather private talks.

Private talks concerning Lance.

This time it’s Pidge; she practically cornered Blue paladin, demanding some answers.

“Lance,” she hisses, worried but trying to cover it under the layers of showoff anger. “You mentioned something in your last...loud encounter with Shiro.”

“Uh, **nope** ,” Lance refuses, trying to step away, but Pidge crosses the line of the retreat once again.

“Yep,” she says, making accent on the ‘p’. “You said something about, I quote: ‘cutting some bruises into yourself’. Please, explain.”

“Don’t remember, didn’t happen,” Lance tries once again.

“Oh, _please_. It worked up with Keith only because he is socially inept and doesn’t know you as well as I do: now spill it out.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little bit sensitive topic for me?”

“Well, sucks for you then; since you’ve screamed about it in front of literally all inhabitants of a Castle outside alteans and mice. And I’m not fully sure about mice, so Allura might know too.”

“Well, _shit_.”

“Yeah,” Pidge agrees.

They stay quiet for dobash or two.

“Okay, let’s try different approach. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Lance suddenly starts laughing.

“What is this?” He asks. “The Goblet of Fire? Won’t work on me, Barty Crouch Jr.”

“Fuck you!”

“Careful, or I’ll have to call the curse police,” Lance teases.

“Leave Shiro out of this and also stop trying to change topic.”

“...Wait, yours?”

“Finally got it?” Pidge raises her sleeves a little, showing Lance something on her arms, and Keith thinks there was enough of sad ‘my friend hurts themselves’ revelations already.

“Holy,” Lance breathes out. “But when- I mean- You’re fourteen!”

“Yeah, I’m early bloomer, I guess?” Pidge gives him a crooked smile. “I’m not great dealing with a grief; so then dad and Matt disappeared and Garrison declared them dead, I kind of lost it...for a while. Till I’ve realised what there is something wrong in the story Garrison was trying to feed to us, started to investigate, and got a hope...Then I have stopped. I hadn’t knew if Matt is alive or not, but didn’t want to worry him in the best case.”

“You mean, he’s yours-?”

“Best case platonic soulmate scenario; literally together from the day I was born. I also found out Matt is alive after one or two suspiciously not mine bruises; usually I can miss some of my own, so at first I thought I just walked into a wall or fell from the stairs half-asleep, or something like that; I was too busy crying my eyes out and be angry at the whole world anyway. But then I’ve got a hope and…”

Lance wraps his smaller teammate in a hug.

“It’s okay,” he says. “We’ll find Matt and we’ll find your dad and everything will be fine.”

“...Thanks,” Pidge puts her face into Lance’s shoulder, closing her eyes and embracing the inevitable.

Meaning Lance, of course, as Lance is the second of the team best with hugs, leaving Hunk his well deserved first place.

“But it was supposed me worrying over and comforting you, not the other way around.”

Lance smiles. “No offence, but you suck at comforting.”

“Full offence taken!...What are yours from? It’s okay if you don’t want to show them; I just want to know that you don’t...You know.”

“Nah, I’ve been clean for a while. It was really bad one time; I’ve scared the hell out of everyone, so this kinda made me quit. Can’t bear the terrified look on Hunk’s face then he found out.”

“So, Hunk does know.”

“Yeah. He kind of, uh, caught me red handed? It was back in the Garrison then you haven’t come yet. I begged everyone, especially Hunk and nurse to keep it quiet and not tell my parents, but they had to stitch the deepest cut. Also I messed up some of tendons pretty badly and it sometimes still hurt.”

“What a loser.”

“Oh, you know it! Look at me, Lance Mcclain; can’t even cut myself without screwing everything up!”

“Don’t make me laugh!”

“But I like making you laugh; you have the cutest little giggle ever!”

“Stop! I don’t giggle and it certainly isn't cute! I am the death, I am the creature of the night, fear me!”

“Su-ure!”

“I’ll steal all your face products when you’re asleep.”

“Don’t you dare, you, little hellspawn!”

“That’s better.”

They look extremely domestic like that, up close to each other; utterly comfortable in company of another. It looks almost like a sitcom episode of a sibling’s bickering.

It does look awfully homelike. Keith hurries to leave.

* * *

_Give me life, give me death,_

_All your biggest regrets,_

_I want everything_

_(c) The Script - Kaleidoscope_

 

 

 

 

 

Keith knows Lance was seriously hurt in battle; he knows it as his waist suddenly starts to bleed.

Keith knows it's nothing; soulmate identifying injuries sometimes bleed or even hurt, if they're too deep, still no danger for the person who didn't get the injury.

This, however, doesn't mean anything good for Lance. It Keith's side started to bleed from damage Lance had got, when the wound have to be a really bad one.

"Shiro," he calls. "We need to go back, Lance's hurt."

Shiro turns around. "How do you-" he starts, but then sees blood on Keith's hands. "Oh. How bad is it?"

"Pretty bad, my side is getting soaked in blood, I'm afraid to think how it looks for Lance."

"Got it," Shiro nods and reaches to turn communicators on. "Guys, we're back: report the situation. How is everyone? Lance?"

"Good fucking timing," Pidge curses into the comms and Shiro doesn't find strength inside himself to scold her; she sounds straight up terrified. "Lance just got shot and from what I can see, it's an explosive bullet. It's very bad, guys, please, hurry."

* * *

It is pretty quiznacking bad, when Keith sees it.

More blood around than it's not; Lance lays unconsciousness on Pidge's lap, paler than Keith thought is physically possible.

Pidge turns her head to a noise they make, her face covered in dirt, tear strains laid on her cheeks.

"Oh thank the god," she exclaims in the keen relief. "Let's get him to a pod as fast as we can, he lost too much blood already and I think he had a convulsion."

Once they're getting to a castle and the team gathers in front of the pod what should get named in the name of Lance already, she finally notices blood stains on Keith's waist and side of pants.

"Keith," she raises the voice. "You're hurt too, why didn't you say anything?"

"Uh, I didn't- It's not...mine," he manages and Pidge's expression changes from horror to slow understanding.

She looks at Keith's blood covered cloth, at the pod where Lance is, then back at Keith again.

"It's," she starts. "On the same place as Lance's."

Keith wants to turn away and run, and yet he stays.  "...Yes," he admits unwillingly.

"Does Lance know," Pidge asks, but it sounds more like demand, like a command to fix it if he doesn't. "You are aware how important is this to him, don't you? You saw him freaking out about every injury his soulmate gets. Wait," another realization clouds her face. "It's your freaking wound we saw on his shoulder! How the quiznack you managed to hide this? Are you alright?"

* * *

Keith is there then Lance leaves the cryopod, ready to catch him.

"You're the biggest idiot I've ever seen," he accuses still a little disoriented boy.

"Are you here to insult me?" Lance pouts into Keith's hair, breath trickling red paladin's neck. "Why do you care? Oh wait, I forgot; you don't!"

Keith fights the urge to squeeze Lance with all force he has; even with the wound healed, Lance is still weak after the long sleep and; no matter how much Keith tries to pretend he doesn't care, in reality he cares too much.

"Let's get you something to eat," he brushes all insults away. "And I care," adds much quieter.

"What?"

"I said; uh, I'm glad you're here," Keith quiets under Lance's suddenly attentive look.

Lance looks at him for some time questionably-inquisitive gaze, and Keith starts to wonder if he has something on his face, but then Lance's lips crack into a gentle, earnest smile.

"Yeah, sure," he says, clearly still a little dreamy from the pod. "Same here, bud."

* * *

Keith is for the first of his life confronted with idiom 'butterflies in your stomach' in the flesh; and he'd just cut stupid bubbly feelings away with a knife, if he could.

Unfortunately, as Shiro keeps saying; feeling don't work that way.

Butterflies stay, making Keith having hard time concentrating on anything.

Anything but Lance.

* * *

"Shiro," Keith walks into his brother's room soon after, without a knock. "Feelings suck."

Shiro remains deeply concentrated on something on his leg.

"Takashi," Keith repeats. "Did you even hear me?"

"I did," he nods. "And I agree."

Keith falls in the bed next to his brother. "Wow," he notices. "What's new."

Shiro's frown transforms into the deeper one. "I love Allura," he mentions casually, keeping all the attention on the small but deep cut on his ankle.

"I know," Keith nods. "Honestly, I think everyone but Allura knows." He looks at the cut what caught all of Shiro's attention. "This is the soulmate one?"

"Yes," Shiro sighs.

"Well, maybe it's Allura?"

"But what are the odds? She is the person ten thousand years from the past, how big is the possibility of her and me being destined to each other?"

"One; you're sap. Two; talk to her."

"Well, why don't you talk to Lance?"

"Fuck off," Keith pushes himself back on the bed; he hears another body shift and take a place near. "Remember how we layed like this and watched the sky full of stars?"

"Yeah," Shiro snorts. "The only reason it was possible because you had a huge hole in your shack's roof and tried to fight me every time I even mentioned fixing it."

"We couldn't stargaze then!"

"Keith, a hole in the roof of your home doesn't exactly suit the prescription of safe environment."

"Oh, who cares; there was no rain in the desert!"

"There were sandstorms!" They lay like this in the silence for a while.

"We're in the outer space now," Shiro notices. "As you always dreamed. You see all stars from there."

"Yeah, but," he hesitates."The only star I can see now is Lance."

There is a tick of a stunned silence then.

"No," Keith tries. "What's not that I meant."

" _You like him_ ," his brother coyes in the most annoying sibling voice.

"I do not!"

" _You want to hold his hand!_ "

"No-"

" _You want to kiss him!_ "

"Takashi, I swear to god-"

* * *

_And it’s a rush like a river that runs through me_

_I get caught in your tide like I can’t believe_

_(c) Thousand Foot Krutch - Set Me on Fire_

They can't have a break; ever.

They're the paladins of Voltron, defenders of the universe, heroes, et cetera.

Heroes don't rest, they don't have vacations or even days off, no one pays them for the risk they take every day of their life.

Heroes do what they have to because no one else will. Universe don't give them a break, and soon team finds itself on another deathly mission, bleeding from all the wounds, trying to patch the world Zarkon keeps ruining.

Heroes get hurt so others wouldn't have to.

Keith feels soft lips brush his own. Lance is just in front of him, shifting weirdly; his forehead is covered in dirt, blood and sweat; he looks out of breath, like he was running for a long distance.

Keith's hands are suspiciously warm, and then he looks down, he sees; they're covered in the blood. Which is strange, because Keith feels no pain.

An image in front of him moves; Lance is getting a better hold on the boy's shoulders. "Sorry," he says, either for the kiss or something else. "I hate when you get hurt."

Blue paladin moves closer once again, connecting their lips like two pieces of a puzzle, and Keith responds.

He has no idea what is going on, and his head feels dizzy; but Lance is right in front of him and he's kissing Keith, and if Keith could, he'd just die from hyperventilating right now and here.

But he can't, because Lance is still kissing him, and it's the second kiss already.

It's awkward and the angle is a little bit off; but Lance's lips are softer than Keith ever imagined, and it slowly drives him insane. So he kisses back with a little bit too much force; eager if not desperate. Lance makes a confused muttered sound into the kiss, but soon recovers; moving along with the new rhythm. Keith pushes forward, deepening the kiss, and Lance follows.

He loses the moment then Lance's lips part under his own, and then his tongue slides in, restless. Keith recovers a consciousness with his tongue deep into Lance's mouth, exploring every detail; and Lance moaning into it deeply; closing his eyes out of the pleasure, sensitive and responsive to every move Keith makes. Keith's hands slide to blue paladin's torso, meeting the familiar already warmth.

_Wait a minute._

Keith breaks out the kiss to look down; Lance's front is covered in the blood and more of it keeps soaking in.

" _You_ ," he hisses, finally realizing  the grief of the situation; Lance jumped in front of a blast what was meant for him.

"I hate it then you get hurt," Lance repeats, blurry-eyed, weakening with every move. "I hate-"

He loses consciousness.

* * *

Keith keeps walking angry circles in front of the cryopod.

"I'll kill him," he promises. "When he wakes up."

"No, you won't," Pidge disagrees. "You'll cry and kiss him and I'll record it for the history."

"It will be angry kissing," Keith insists. "I hate him!"

"And yet another lie to come," the little gremlin never rests. "He's your soulmate."

"Can't you hate your soulmate?" he resents.

"Sure," Pidge snorts. "If you mean romantic hate-"

"Stop burying me deeper," Keith cuts off. "He kissed me and then almost died; who does that?!"

"Lance," Pidge shrugs. "Lance definitely does."

* * *

Keith stumbles over yet another private conversation; honestly, this castle is a maze with secrets hidden in every corner.

This time there are no Lance, as he still stays in the pod, healing, away from Keith’s rage.

This time it's Allura and Shiro, talking in the hushed voices, looking at each other as if they just met; attentive and exploring gazes.

“I must admit,” Allura says. “I thought my soul-bound person died with the whole Altea. I've never expected it to be-”

“I know,” Shiro nods, soft, smiling at her with that extreme level of affection what should be illegal. “I didn't expect it either. It's the most unlikely scenario, and yet, I'm glad it's you.”

Allura stares at him for a tick or two, examining an expression.

Then the composure she holds eases, tension leaving the body, and she smiles in return.

“Me too,” the princess puts a hand on Shiro’s gently. “I'm glad it's you. I thought I have lost everything; the revelation what I'm not alone...in the life, in universe itself- what I'm connected to someone on the deepest level and this someone is alive, near me, close to reach...It means a lot.”

Keith knows his brother enough to guess what's going to happen next; he turns away just in time to avoid seeing the kiss.

Seems like Shiro’s worries were rootless.

Keith’s worries stay there till one self-sacrificing idiot will leave the pod, though.

* * *

Keith barely sleeps, he stays near Lance’s pod as long as possible, being practically dragged away by Shiro or Hunk then they decide he needs rest, having Pidge to sneak him some snacks.

Keith stays near cryopod almost all the time, and _yet_ he manages to miss the moment when Lance wakes up.

Keith doesn't find Lance in a med bay, neither his room.

He actually detects a glimpse of a familiar figure in lion hangars.

Lance crawls down, looking at Hunk’s damaged with what Keith supposes is a blast skin with full attention.

He has his eyebrows connected, and a worried wrinkle appearing between them.

In one hand he holds already familiar to Keith altean bandage, in another - some kind of a bottle with medical emulsi.

It's clear Lance is treating Hunk’s unfortunate injury, and there is nothing wrong in it: Hunk is Lance’s best friend, of course Lance would want to make sure he’s alright - that is only natural.

But Keith is selfish. He's selfish and too used to familiar routine of Lance caring over his wounds, Lance patching his bruises, Lance treating his scratches.

So it's unexpected, strange and somehow feels dusty - seeing Lance caring about someone else in the same manner.

Keith got used to the idea what he's somehow special, what Lance blurts this intensive caring only at him, what all these silent sessions they have are something special.

But Lance just cares about his friends, and Keith never made sure to find out if their soulmate link a romantic one.

Keith is overfilled with sharp, hot and bitter feeling inside of him: jealousy. Pain.

He turns away just as Lance notices his presence. Keith thinks he hears the blue paladin calling his name,but he doesn't stop. He runs.

* * *

“We need to talk,” Lance announces, walking into Keith’s room as if it's his own.

“Talk,” Keith allows.

He lays in a bed, face covered with a hand. Not obvious enough what he’s avoiding to look at Lance, but just enough to create some cover from the intense stare of two blue eyes.

“The conversation is a result of two people’s doing,” Lance says. “Just as the relationship.”

Keith groans right into his palm. “What do you want?” he asks.

Through the cover of his fingers he sees Lance wincing, uncertain. “Only for you to listen.”

“I'm willing to.”

“Okay,” Lance gulps, still standing in the middle of the room like the statue of uncertainty.

“First of all, I have to say it would be much more harder and with bigger amount of misunderstanding, if not Shiro, bless his soul.”

Keith peeks up curiously yet cautiously, Lance continues.

“After you run away from the hangar-”

“I did not run!”

“Anyway, I've met Takashi Shirogane, god bless him, then I tried to follow you after _you totally narutorun away_. I was all confused why the hell you bolted out of the room like this; worried, what maybe you hate me after I've kissed you-”

“I've kissed you back,” Keith pinpoints.

“And I was bleeding out and close to the fainting, so forgive me for questioning my memories. Anyway!”

“Can you stop saying ‘anyway’ all the time?”

“Sorry, I'm nervous. So anyway - sorry - Shiro reassured me what you in fact do not hate me, and what he's as your bro would know. He also said you was especially...Uh, worried about me when I was in the pod. So, By the Shiro’s blessing I'm here to...Um. Clear the air.”

“The air seems to be clear enough.”

“It's an idiom! So uh. What do you know about love?”

“What?!”

“Love,” Lance looks painfully uncomfortable now. “As a feeling. Between people.”

“I know some things about it,” Keith hums. “The basics.”

“But do you know,” and thank the god, Lance finally sits at the edge of Keith's bed, tired of standing open to the view. “What love is not like chocolate?”

“Is not like...What are you even talking about?”

“Let me- Just let me finish! It’s another metaphor, you’ll get it later.”

“Okay?” Keith still isn't convinced. “So, love isn't like chocolate.”

“It isn't,” Lance nods, looking certain in something for once. “For example, when I give someone a piece of my chocolate, there is less of it left. So you can't give chocolate to everyone, there is a limited number of pieces, and it's number also affected by the size of them. But with love...No matter, how many pieces of love I'll give, it won’t end. It's unending source. It doesn't matter how many pieces I'll give or how many people I love, there will be always place for another. Uh. Person. Especially then this person a special one."

“Wait,” Keith starts to put puzzle together. “Your metaphor is shady as heck, but I think...I think I'm getting it.”

“Good,” Lance shifts a little, back to looking uncomfortable. “So?”

“So?”

“Uh, if you get it, you must-”

“But love can be platonic-” Keith interfers. “What piece...What piece of… love chocolate is mine?”

“The Saint Valentine’s day one,” Lance gulps one more time. “In the form of the heart.”

* * *

“Why are you always end up hurt?” Keith asks, leaning into Lance and brushing the thick irritated line of skin what was left from the wound.

“You know,” Lance follows his hand with a look. “I used to wonder about it all the time. But now, I think, I know the answer. Intergalactic war and junk do it to you.”

“It was rhetorical question, you ass!”

“Oh, but you like that ass, don't you?” the blue paladin can't let the opportunity go; he wiggles his eyebrows, making seducing face. “You're linked to that ass, _bonded_ , if I may!”

“Stop!” Keith can't help a blush creeping all over his cheeks and decides to hide is face in a crook of his soulmate’s neck cowardly. “Can't believe what I was linked to you from all people.”

“Don't pretend you’re not enjoying it,” Lance connects their hands, brushing a finger over Keith’s palm. “And I saw you blushing!”

“Nope,” Keith denies. “Don't remember, didn't happen.”

A cheerful laugh of his boyfriend echoes over walls in response.

 _Maybe_ , Keith thinks, _Universe actually knew what it was doing, when it fated them together. Maybe this is how it should be._

**Author's Note:**

> Keith Ko, let me tell you one wise thing: you can indeed narutorun from your feelies. BUT YOU CAN'T NARUTOHIDE U NERD


End file.
